Inside the double doors of the common room, Lillian draped her arms over her daughters’ shoulders in a reassuring hug. “She may not understand you’re my children, but don’t let that bother you.”
Lillian, Pammie, and Penny left Peter standing against the wall as if he was propping it up. They walked to a small table where Anna sat alone with a deck of cards. Slight and lonely, but pretty, with long gray hair and a yellow dress.
“Hi, Anna, do you remember me?”
Anna smiled at Lillian, which did not answer the question. “Are these your children?”
“They are.” Lillian nudged the girls forward. “This is Pammie—”
“And I’m Penny.” She reached out her hand and Anna clasped it.
Anna looked at Lillian. “Can they stay?”
Words tangled into a knot and lodged in Lillian’s throat. She nodded and the girls sat with Anna, who indicated the pack of cards. “Do you want to play go fish?”
“Okay,” Pammie said. “But I should warn you, I always win.”
Lillian opened her mouth to admonish her older daughter, but Anna hooted. The capricious laughter stung and hugged Lillian’s heart. It had been so long since she’d heard it.
“This one’s a firecracker,” Anna said. The word, once used to describe Lillian, made her feel happy and sad at the same time.
“We brought cookies,” Penny said. “We know you like them. Right, Mom?”
Lillian placed the container on the middle of the table and Penny peeled back the lid. “Don’t worry,” Lillian said. “No raisins.”
The visit ended when Anna nodded off at the table, in the middle of a game of war, chin to her chest. Lillian had been surprised at her own reaction to this encounter. Instead of feeling ashamed that her mother was a patient, Lillian was delighted that Anna and her girls had found a way to enjoy each other’s company. Penny and Pammie had engaged her mother—their grandmother—for almost an hour. The longer Lillian had watched the three of them, the more normal Anna seemed.
Troubled, yes; simple, yes—but almost normal.
If an hour of cards could produce conversation and laughter, how would Anna be now if Lillian had been more mindful for the past sixteen or more years? If she’d visited more frequently? Lillian wished she could go back, but she could only change the future, not the past.
As the Diamonds walked to the car, Pammie and Penny gathered a few red and gold leaves from the ground.
“Is she allowed out?” Penny asked, without maliciousness.
“Who, Anna?” The idea seemed so foreign to Lillian.
“Yes. I think she would like our back patio.”
“She said she likes flowers,” Pammie said.
“When did she say that?” Lillian asked.
“During go fish,” Pammie said. “You were standing by the wall with Daddy. She likes grape soda, too, but she doesn’t have it often. I think we should take her some next time.”
Lillian reached out to the girls and drew them into a hug.
“What was that for?” Pammie asked.
“For being kind,” Lillian kvelled.
“So can she come to our house? She’s family, right? She should be able to visit,” Penny said.
Lillian looked at Peter and shrugged. She knew she’d pressed things by wanting the girls to meet Anna and she didn’t want to push too far too fast.
“We’ll ask,” Peter said.
Lillian gasped. “We will?”
“How else will we know?” he said. “Anna’s never left in all these years. Maybe it’s unconventional, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
“Your dad is right.” Lillian turned to her daughters, grateful for her family. “We’ll ask.”
Later that day, Lillian sat in the basement on an old metal folding chair, sorting and refolding the stowed-away-for-Carrie baby clothes. Pink. Blue. White. Yellow and green. She still hadn’t reconciled Carrie’s decision to stay with Eli, and the peaceful and repetitive chore helped to soothe the commotion in her heart.
Pammie and Penny had exceeded Lillian’s expectations and filled her with a mother’s joy—and a daughter’s joy. They weren’t clairvoyant, yet somehow her husband and daughters had given Lillian what she longed for—what she’d asked for. A family that had each other’s backs.
Fold, stack.
Fold, stack.
Fold, stack.
She heard someone open the squeaky basement door and start down the stairs. “Lil?”
“Down here.”
Peter walked down the steps. He looked around the basement. “Where are the girls?”
“Penny is at Linda’s and Pammie is at Margot’s. They know we’re going out. They’ll be home at five.”
Peter sat on a chair. “What’s going on down here?”
“Just thinking about my mother.”
“Anything else?”
Yes, she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him all about Carrie, about the Esthers, about Shirley’s abuse. About how she’d come to realize that not everything was as it appeared in people’s marriages. About how she wanted to help women who suffered at the hands of their husbands. But she’d promised to remain silent. And she wasn’t quite certain that he’d agree with her plans. “No, nothing.”
“Don’t you think I have the right to know?”
“The right to know what?” There was no way for him to know about Carrie, Lillian told herself.
He pointed to each stack of baby clothes. “That we’re having another baby. All the clothes. The secret project. Wanting more meant more children.”
Lillian almost laughed out loud in relief. Peter thought she was pregnant. She was thirty-five, and she was done having babies after Penny. Had he forgotten?
“It most certainly did not. We are not having a baby.” She glanced at her stomach. She had changed out of her suit into evergreen cuffed ankle slacks and an amber merino sweater—a fitted ensemble. “Do I look like I’m having a baby?”
“No, but I figure it’s early.” His face was unreadable.
“Peter, the last thing I want is another child. I gathered these clothes for someone who is expecting—it made me feel good to help someone who really needed it without getting anything in return.”
“Oh.” Peter sounded disappointed. He’d always wanted a son, but had never insisted on another child. She walked over and hugged him, resting her face against his chest. “Wanting more isn’t about wanting more children, it’s about feeling like I’m doing something worthwhile in the world—something besides helping you win contracts.”
He leaned away and looked down at her. “I thought you liked helping me.”
Lillian took a step back. This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. “I do. This isn’t against you, Peter, it’s for me. There’s a difference. I want to make a difference. I want to be sure our daughters are aware of women like my mother. So they’re not just learning how to be pretty and proper. So they don’t become complacent.”
Peter looked like he had no idea what she was talking about. Well, he couldn’t read her mind. She’d have to tell him what she was thinking. “I’m going to help women who are in situations like my mother was with my father. It happens much more than you know. I can help ensure someone listens to them. That there are places where hurt women can go for help before they end up in a hospital, or worse.”